


broken friendships and winter mornings

by mirorange



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Coffee - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Panic Attacks, Reminiscing, Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), does this even count as h/c, the boyz need help :[, who cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirorange/pseuds/mirorange
Summary: i just got my clingy duo back and iwillwrite fic for themor of january mornings, nostalgia-ridden coffee, and two boys much too young for their situation.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Kudos: 39





	broken friendships and winter mornings

**Author's Note:**

> clingy duo is the only thing keeping me alive at this point i stg
> 
> anyways this is set before the sixth, enjoy :]

Tommy couldn’t sleep. It’s not like that was anything new, he hadn’t slept well since- how long had it been since he had really slept? Whatever, it didn’t matter. What mattered right now is he was in L’manburg. With Tubbo. It was everything he’d wanted, so why didn’t he feel quite right?

He pulled himself out of the soft downy cloud of sleep with a cup of coffee. Staring up into the early morning sky, soft sapphire and dark charcoal grey, he found himself reminiscing.

He remembered Wilbur ruffling his hair affectionately, a smile in those tired brown eyes. Wilbur was always tired, all deep eyebags and weary sighs.

He remembered the days of his first exile, the cold stone-wrought floors of Pogtopia and the cold dread sinking in as the days traveled on. He remembered the good things too, it hadn’t been all bad. There were nights around the fire with his friends, the ever-constant joking and roughhousing, the fragile hope as others joined the cause.

He remembered the festival, cold cruel words ringing out from the stage, putting the only person he cared about in mortal danger for what felt like the millionth time. The raw visceral fear in Tubbo's eyes as he was given his second death, the untamable rage he felt at the skull-masked hybrid who he had considered a brother. And suddenly he was there, it was real he could see it Tubbo was **dead and Wilbur was smirking egging him on and then they were fighting and oh god he’d lost he couldn't avenge Tubbo who was only on one life now just like him and-**

“Tommy?” Tommy was so startled he dropped his mug, spilling the hot liquid onto the snow, muggy grey steam rising, getting in his face. Dodging, he turned to face the voice.

“Tubbo?” Tubbo nodded.

“Yeah, sorry for...uhm… startling you, I couldn’t sleep so i was out on a walk and you didn’t look so good... so how are you, big man?” Tommy shifted awkwardly.

“Fine. i couldn't sleep either and I thought there was no reason to go back to bed so”- This was awkward, this was so hard this shouldn't be difficult- “...Yeah. would you like to come in? It’s really fuckin’ cold, you know.” Tubbo nodded, relief apparent in his eyes, shifting with the ever present worry and exhaustion. So now they were sitting in Tommy's house of grass and stone, alone for the first time in months.

//

Tubbo fidgeted nervously. He was here, In his best friend's house, together for the first time since before the exile. On one hand he was ecstatic, he had missed him so much it hurt, had regretted it to an extent it had hindered his everyday activities, messed with his sleep schedule, made it hard to breathe.

On the other, Tommy had no obligation to do anything for him, he’d completely screwed him over. So Tubbo had to be better. He was going to be the best friend Tommyinnit had ever had, so help him god. He was not going to mess it up this time.

Tommy rushed in with two new cups of coffee, careful not to spill this time. Tubbo took the mug offered to him hesitantly, breathing in the rich smell of the brew and savoring the warmth that spread through his hands. He had coffee every morning, sure, but this threw him back to a simpler time, time before the wars, before the destruction. Tommy would make them coffee and they would sit and just talk, enjoying each others company. It was consistent, it was routine. Their routine. Caught in the ecstasy of a time long past, Tubbo was pulled back to reality by a familiar voice.

“So,” Tommy said, situating himself on the floor beside him, “Are we gonna talk or just sit here or are we just going to sit?” Tubbo jumped, struggling to seem calm and unbothered. “Why- don’t we just- sit? I’d love to talk, I really would, I just… don’t know if i can right now.” Tommy sighed, a weary sound, humming in understanding. And so they sat, side by side, on that cold January morning. Tomorrow they would have to defend their home, but for now, they rested.

_Recovery is a difficult process, but never impossible._

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought of it, i love to hear feedback :D
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at @miro-is-lost so if you enjoyed consider checking that out :]


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